


The Ministry of Magic's Most Wanted

by jwdickson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jwdickson/pseuds/jwdickson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor McGonagall meets up with one of the teachers from her days as a Hogwarts student--an individual she has come to realize is not human and may, in point of fact, be something far more ghastly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ministry of Magic's Most Wanted

1996, SOMEWHERE IN GREAT BRITAIN…  
  
Two figures stood, a healthy distance between them, on a deserted suburban street. It was the sort of neighborhood where the residents were so utterly assured of their safety that they didn’t require streetlights. The horned moon overhead offered the only source of illumination until-  
  
“ _Lumos_.”  
  
Professor Minerva McGonagall--Hogwarts faculty, Animagus, disciplinarian--stood revealed in the light from her wand. The… _creature_ …across from her remained veiled in shadow. There was a hint of a small, lace-spotted hat…something in its grasp that _might_ have been a bag…and the rest of the thing appeared to assume the general shape of a bodice and skirt. But it was a _shape_ , nothing more.  
  
“Minerva,” the creature said, its voice clear and friendly. “A pleasure, as always.”  
  
“Not tonight,” McGonagall replied, her voice similarly clear but rather more clipped.  
  
“Do not be curt with me, young lady. Be concise, but never _curt_.”  
  
McGonagall had been honing her aesthetic for a long time and wasn’t about to be outdone. Especially by something that she knew could not be human. “I shall be curt if I please. It is the politest possible way to convey distaste and _you_ , madam, I find _particularly_ distasteful.”  
  
“And why would that be?”  
  
“You must ask? Allow me to list your crimes. Roanoke. Mu. Tungusk-”  
  
“That last was a particularly _daring_ experiment, I’ll admit, but I dare say not a _criminal_ one.”  
  
“You have been using magic in front of and on Muggles for centuries, perhaps _longer_. You are _why_ we have a Ministry of Magic. The only reason that they have not bent their full resources to locating you is-“  
  
“I stay out of the way,” the creature finished. “Unlike some other individuals I could name.”  
  
“Even as recently as 1910 you have violated the Ministry’s prohibition on magic before Muggles!” Minerva snapped, tired of being interrupted. “Though you were...unusually magnanimous, in that case.”  
  
The figure smiled gently, showing rows of perfect teeth. “My whims are beyond mortal conceptions of morality. Though I shall admit that I have my moods, like anyone. Even the devil sickens of dancing in the dark.”  
  
“And is that why you decided to take up the mantle of Transfigurations Professor at Hogwarts fifty years ago? _Boredom_? Or perhaps it was something more _petty_.”  
  
The creature sniffed daintily, insulted. “ _I_ am above pettiness. Though it would seem you are _not_.” A sigh of disappointment. “You were such a well-behaved student. Whatever happened, Minerva?”  
  
“You scored me an eighty-seven.”  
  
The creature blinked in honest surprise. “Is _that_ what this is all about? A _grade_? I do believe we are now redefining the very _scope_ of petty.”  
  
“The grade only told me there was something _very wrong_ with you.”  
  
“We do think a great deal of ourselves, don’t we?”  
  
“My technique was perfect!”  
  
“My gracious, your technique was merely the least _sloppy_ of the lot. You should be thankful you didn’t fail with the other three-quarters of your class.”  
  
 McGonagall’s wand whipped forward, the light at its tip winking out. “ _Expelliarmus_!”  
  
A parasol opened before the creature like a shield, and the spell broke upon it like a wave on a cliff. The parasol snapped shut. “A disarming spell? Why on Earth should you think to use _that_ , of all things?” It hefted the parasol lovingly, caressing it. “My wand’s core is basilisk heartstring, resilient and resistant. I killed the beast myself in the darkest depths of the Amazon.”  
  
“Simple for one with no compunction about utilizing the Unforgivable Curses,” McGonagall said, drawing her wand back. So much for surprise. But why wasn’t it attacking?  
  
“Pish tosh. You know __Avada Kedavra__ ruins wandmaking material. Or perhaps you don’t. No matter. I disposed of the creature with my own hands, staring it straight in its unfortunate eyes all the while. It was an ugly bit of business.” The creature sighed again, this time in reminiscence. “The look of fear in the fearless is like a cup of tea for the soul.”  
  
McGonagall stood, feet fixed to the spot. This was something beyond her most terrible imagining. Why hadn’t she prepared better? Made a plan, hidden an ace up her sleeve? Why hadn’t she brought along backup? An army of Aurors? _Dumbledore_? And most importantly-  
  
“Why are you here?” the creature asked earnestly. “The grade is a flimsy excuse, and if you sought to destroy me you could have brought the entire Ministry down upon my head (not that it would have mattered). So that means that the trouble of tracking me down…was suffered out of _curiosity_. Hm. Minerva McGonagall, ever the cat both inside and out.”  
  
McGonagall couldn’t tell whether the words rang true because of some strange trickery or not. She raised one hand to her forehead, grimacing.  
  
There was a _schiff_ as the parasol slid between the handles of the creature’s carpet bag. “It’s a good quality. Teachers must ever be students. It will be good to remember that, in the coming years.” The creature turned away, skirt swishing in the darkness. “I shall take my leave then, and stand alongside history for a while. There will be enough mischief without my assistance, I think. Good evening, Minerva.”  
  
“Wait.”  
  
The creature stopped, looked over its shoulder. “Yes?”  
  
“Who…” McGonagall abandoned that question. She mustered her faculties and forged on. “… _What_ …are you?”  
  
“Me?” the creature asked, a self-assured smile spreading across its face, once more revealing its perfect teeth. “I am _practically perfect in every way_.”  
  
Then Minerva McGonagall was alone in the darkness, nursing a blooming headache. She raised her eyes to the moonlit sky, trying to arrange the past few minutes into something that made sense. It took some time before she decided that there must necessarily be some questions with no answers. She didn’t like it, but at that moment, on that street and in the cold light of the universe…well, it would have to do.  
  
A moment later the street was empty entirely.


End file.
